Winter Wonderland
by Chris10e
Summary: Winter in New York. Lots of snow and a murder to solve for the detectives at the 8th. Precinct.
1. Chapter 1

**Winter Wonderland**

**Chapter One  
**  
Jim and Christie had had a quiet night at home watching a rerun of American Idol.

"Imagine that," Christie teased, "Jimmy Dunbar watching American Idol."

"And having a good time too," he answered with a smile. "That British guy, Cowell, is mean but fun. I'm going to take Hank for his walk. Is it snowing yet?" The weather forecast said there would be heavy snowfall in the New York area. Christie went to the window and looked. "Yes, there is about four inches of snow already."

Jim went to put his coat on, get his cane and Hank's leash. Hank never wore the harness on these late night walks. As he clipped on the leash he heard Christie putting on her coat too.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going with you," Christie said firmly. She knew he was going to object.

"No." He shook his head.

She sighed, "Jim! It's snowing!"

"I don't need you to go with me!"

"Maybe not, but I'm going anyway."

Jim shook his head again but said nothing. He opened the door and they left. When they came out the front door, Jim started walking, cane in one hand, Hank in the other. The snow muffled every sound and their footsteps were barely audible.  
Christie noticed the disorientation in Jim's face as he tried to navigate in the snow. After a short distance she stuck her arm under his; "Jimmy, give me Hank's leash." He handed her the leash stiffening with anger but without any comments.  
They walked in silence and as they were walking she could feel Jim slowly relaxing until they were walking comfortably arm in arm.

At first Jim's temper flared. He was mad at Christie because she went along even though he had told her not to. At the same time he was wondering why it upset him so much? Christie wasn't one to underestimate him or to patronize him. She knew he wanted to be as independent as possible and with her he usually was. Of course, there were certain things he now needed her to do for him but otherwise she didn't do anything for him now that she hadn't done before.  
His anger disappeared slowly as they were walking. After a while he found himself enjoying walking with Christie in the snow. He imagined the snow falling, covering everything in a soft blanket of snow. He used to love walking in the snow at night. The city became quiet and the snow almost made everything glow. He hadn't gone out in the snow much after he got shot. Now snow was disorienting and he had trouble navigating, even with Hank. But tonight was different. He enjoyed feeling the snow falling in his face and he could hear Hank happily sniffing and sneezing when snow hit his nose. At first they weren't speaking because he was mad at Christie but along the way it had turned into a comfortable silence. They didn't need to speak, they were just comfortable in each others company. Nothing needed to be said.

They came back to the apartment covered in snow. Jim dried Hank off and then went to bed. Christie had already turned in but wasn't asleep yet. He climbed in under the covers and turned toward Christie; "I'm sorry, I got mad at you but I… I... I don't… I want…" He didn't know how to continue.

"I know," Christie said quietly, "but it's OK sometimes to do things the easy way. I know you can walk Hank on your own, even in the snow but I also know how hard it is on you."

"I guess it still gets to me," he said with a sad note in his voice. "And then I want to prove to myself that nothing has changed. Yeah, so I'm blind, so what, I'm still a bad-ass cop and I can do anything I want, I don't need anyone. But I do. I just don't want to be a burden to you."

"You're not," Christie assured him, "I don't do that much for you. When I do, I don't even think about it anymore, I'm..."

He snorted, "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"You know what I mean," she couldn't help but smile at him. "You know me. If I thought going with you tonight was a burden, I would never have made the offer. And besides, I need you to need me, sometimes."

"I do need you. And I appreciate everything you do for me."

* * *

The next morning it had stopped snowing but the clouds were grey and heavy, promising more snow.

Christie finished her coffee and called, "Jimmy, hurry up, so I can drop you off on my way to work."

Jim came out from the bedroom buttoning his shirt. "You don't have to wait for me, I'll take the train."

"Jimmy! You used to drop me off at work all the time. Let me return the favor."

Five minutes later they were in the car. Jim knew it was futile but he wished he was the one driving. He had never liked to be in the passenger seat, especially not when driving in the winter. Nothing to do about it, he thought, besides Christie is an experienced driver and good at it too.  
The city that had been all quiet last night was now back to business as usual. The roads were almost cleared of the snow, it was rush hour and the only signs of last nights snowfall were the big banks of snow at the roadsides.

Soon they were at the precinct. "Jimmy, I'm parked about 30 yards from the front door but I can't get any closer. When you get out of the car, you have to cross a bank of snow before you get to the sidewalk.  
Before he got out of the car, Jim leaned in and kissed Christie on the cheek. "Thank you. You do know I'm a fool, right?"

"Yes, I do." She brought her hand up and caressed his cheek. "Take care."

He opened the door, stepped out and let Hank out of the back door. He shook out his cane and waited till he heard Christie honk the horn and drive away. Then he used the cane to find a spot where he could cross the bank of snow. He had Hank on the leash and let him cross the bank first, then he followed him to the sidewalk. He took the harness handle and started walking toward the front door of the 8th. Precinct when he heard Tom Selway's voice.

"'Morning, Dunbar, did you make Hank walk here in all that snow?"

"'Morning, Tom. No, Christie dropped us off."

"Good for you. My car is in the shop and I had to take the train. At a day like today it's even worse than usual."

"Yeah, I guess," Jim said as they went inside together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Last night went well and he was quite happy with the way it had turned out. He had talked to him a couple of times to make sure he was the right person, that he was qualified. Many of them weren't. They had done it to themselves. They needed help too but he wasn't the one to help them out. Not his way, anyway. But this one had told him about having a family and a job and losing them due to bad circumstances. Bad circumstances or what he knew was bad karma. He had also told him about his childhood. Not much but enough for him to know that he had been abused. He knew what abuse was like.

He had told him how he had screwed everything up. About drinking too much and not being able to do his job. He had had a well-payed job but lost it because of his drinking. Eventually he had lost his wife and his kids too, ending up living on the streets. Yes, he had been right.

Usually they didn't get it, didn't understand that he was helping. He knew that the only way to help them was to give them some good karma, to relieve them of their misfortune. They were always fighting it. He didn't understand why. He would always explain to them what he was doing for them. That he was their saviour and he would take their sins upon him. This one fought too but in the end he seemed to understand, to be grateful of the gift he was given.

He was always peaceful afterwards. Helping gave him peace of mind too. Took the memories of his own childhood away, at least for a while. He grew up living with his grandmother most of the time, except when his parents came home and decided to play house for a while. They always took off again. Sometimes they took him with them and that was even worse than staying with Grandma. She was very nice but she was too old and too fragile to raise a kid. She sent him to a Catholic school hoping that the nuns could discipline him because she had given up on him herself. But now wasn't the time to think about that, he scolded himself. Last night had been a success and he should cherish that and not think about the old times. He was free now, and he had given someone else his freedom too.

It has been too long since the last time, he decided. I should do it again soon. The idea of doing it again was arousing. He felt great now and the thought of finding one more made him happier that he had ever been. He would definitely begin the search for a new prospect right away.

* * *

When Jim Dunbar and Tom Selway entered the squad room Jim could hear Karen Bettancourt and Marty Russo talk about the weather.

"I don't mind the snow, actually," Karen said. "I just don't like to drive in it."

"No problem, I'll drive today." Karen looked up when she heard Jim's voice. "Good morning Jim."

"Right, Dunbar, that'll be the day." Marty said, "Morning Tom."

Jim let go of Hank's harness and the dog settled at his usual spot.

"Jim, I'm going to get coffee. You want some?" Karen offered.

"Thanks, that would be great." He had just started to take off his coat when Lieutenant Fisk emerged from his office.

"Don't get too comfortable, Jim. You're up next, right?"

"Yes, what's up?"

"Some kids found a dead man when they were playing in the snow on a vacant lot."

" We haven't even had our coffee yet," Karen mumbled.

"Sorry," Fisk said. "Get going!"

Jim slapped his thigh, signalling Hank who sighed before he got up and trotted to Jim's side. "Sorry, Buddy, Boss's orders."

When they arrived at the crime scene, it had started snowing heavily. Karen waited while Jim let Hank out of the car and when he grabbed the harness handle, she began walking.

Tom and Marty had arrived a few minutes before and were already at the body. Tom looked questioningly at her and asked, "Are you mad at him again?"

"What?" She looked back. "He was right behind me?"

"Come on, Karen," Marty said, "All that snow?"

"Damn!" She turned around a went back to the car, scolding herself. Why didn't I think of that, she thought. I hope he's not mad at me for abandoning him like that. Not that he'll ever say anything, he always keeps his face impassive when something like this happens. I know him well enough, though. Maybe no one else will notice but I can always tell if he's mad or embarrassed. And this time it's my fault. The snow is a foot deep here. It must be hard to navigate, even with Hank.

Jim had ordered Hank to follow Karen but the snow had been too deep for Hank. He had called Karen's name to ask her to wait while he let Hank back in the car, but she didn't hear him. He turned and went back to the car. After letting Hank in the car again he shook out his cane and started walking again. He gave up almost immediately since he didn't know where to find the crime scene.

"Jim!" He was startled by the sudden sound of Karen's voice. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head and took her elbow. "Don't worry about it, are Marty and Tom here yet?"

"Yeah, they are at the crime scene."

"What's happened?"

"Two kids playing in the snow found the victim. Male, Caucasian, about 45 – 50 years old, no visible wounds, no blood. He's wearing a pair of old jeans and a shirt, no coat. Long greying hair and a ragged beard. Looks kind of filthy."

"Homeless?"

"I think so. Here we are."

"Where you've been, Dunbar, making snow angels?" Marty said when they arrived. Karen stared at him but he just smiled back. Jim ignored him and asked, "Are there any traces to be seen in the snow?"

Tom shook his head. "No, everything is covered in snow. If there were any footprints they are gone by now."

"Any sign of a crime or did the poor guy freeze to death?"

"Nothing," Marty answered. "But he's not wearing the usual seven layers homeless people often do and there is no sign of his belongings. You know, a shopping cart or plastic bags filled with whatever it is he would keep there."

"OK. Karen and I will go talk to the kids who found him."

Tom nodded. "Marty and I can go ask around in the buildings across the street. Maybe someone knows him and remembers seeing him last night."

A couple of hours later Jim and Karen had interviewed the two boys who'd found the body and were driving back to the squad. Karen looked tentatively at Jim. She didn't know if she should apologize for this morning or let it go.

"Jim?"

He looked in her direction. "Yeah?"

"About this morning. I'm sor…"

"No!" He shook his head and seemed to look directly at her. "You have nothing to apologize for. I was going to talk to you about this. I should have told you that I needed your help. Christie has been after me about this too."

"But I should have known…."

"It's not your fault, Karen. I can't expect you to know when I need your help if I don't tell you. The fact is, snow is a pain in the you-know-where and a place like that… I can't use Hank, it's not fair to him so I have to rely on you more."

"Sure, no problem. Now I know. Just tell me when you need me, OK?"

"Thanks. Will do."

Back at the squad the four detectives and Lieutenant Fisk discussed the case. Nobody had seen anything the night before. But one of the tenants in the building next door had seen a homeless man a couple of times lately.

"He thinks the guy has been sleeping in an old shed in the backyard of the building next to the vacant lot," Marty Russo said.

Tom continued, "By the time we finished talking to him it was getting dark, so we decided to wait till tomorrow. Not much we can see in the dark anyway."

The lieutenant turned toward Jim. "What did you get from the kids, Jim?"

"Not much," Jim answered, "they were pretty shook up. They had seen this big pile of snow and jumped right in, only to discover it wasn't snow but a dead man."

Karen added, "They said they had seen him in the neighbourhood too."

"But do you think it was a crime?" Lieutenant Fisk knitted his brows.

"I don't know." Jim leaned back in his chair, thinking. "It's just weird that he was out there in the snow if he had shelter in that shed."

Karen added, " And he had almost nothing on. A pair of jeans and a shirt. Not even a homeless guy would go out on a snowy night dressed like that."

"OK, we'll se what the ME has to say. Let's call it a day and then you can keep working on this tomorrow." Fisk walked back toward his office.

"Good night."

"Good night, Boss."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It had finally stopped snowing the previous night but since then the temperature had dropped several degrees. The four detectives met at the old shed on a sunny but freezing cold day.

"Brrr. Better get this over with as soon as possible." Marty began searching the tiny shed. There was a pile of old sacks looking as though they had been used as a makeshift bed. An old box played the role of a table, covered in cigarette buttons, probably picked up on the street or from trashcans.

Karen had taken a quick overview of the place and was now outside, describing it for Jim. "It's tiny, there's barely room for Marty and Tom, and basically a mess. It's odd, though, because it seems like he undressed before he went outside. His coat and two ragged woolen jumpers are neatly folded, lying next to his shoes, as if he undressed and then went outside barefooted."

"I think I got an ID." Tom had been going through a big pile of old clothes and other indeterminable objects and had retrieved a wallet. "Yes. There's an expired license for one Peter Bonner of Manhattan. Karen, if you and Jim follow up on this, Marty and I will finish up here."

Jim nodded. "The local church has a soup kitchen. We'll talk to them first and then head to Manhattan."

* * *

"Yes, Peter used to come here, bless his soul." Jim and Karen were talking to Darren Jones, the parish clerk. "I'm volunteering in the soup kitchen and I try to talk to as many as I can. So many sad cases. Well, I don't have to tell you about that. I mean, it's clear the Gods have conspired against you as well." 

Karen secretly rolled her eyes. As always, Jim didn't seem to notice but continued, "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Sorry, detective, I didn't mean any offence. He was here last night. We talked for a while until I went home. He was such a talented individual. Too bad the Drinking Devil kept him prisoner."

"OK, thank you were much, you've been very helpful." Jim felt somewhat uncomfortable with the clerk and he could feel Karen shifting uneasily at his side as well. As soon as they were outside, Karen drew a deep breath. "Creepy guy. You think he knows more than he's telling us?"

"Maybe. He's creepy alright, but that doesn't make him a murderer. We don't even know if there was a murder."

Peter Bonner's wife still lived in their apartment on Manhattan. She hadn't seen him in several years but had never actually divorced him. "It's not like I was hoping for him to come back. Our marriage had been over for years before I finally kicked him out."

"Why?" By some unspoken agreement Karen had taken the lead on this interview while Jim sat quietly, listening to the two women talking.

"He was drinking. At first he took a drink when he came home after work, he deserved it, he said. Gradually it became more and more excessive until he ultimately lost his job. I think there were some irregularities. I don't know the details and charges were never brought."

"So you kicked him out?"

"No, not at first. But his drinking got worse and I just couldn't deal with it anymore. I had my kids to take care of too, and, well, we were better off without him."

"I understand," Karen said sympathetically.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm sorry he's dead, but it's probably for the best, anyway."

* * *

When Karen and Jim arrived at the squad room, Marty was on his way out. "I'm going to buy lunch. You wanna come?" 

"I'm not going anywhere, it's too cold," Karen shook her head and turned to Jim, "but Jim, if you're going, would you mind buying me a turkey on rye sandwich.?"

He gave her a mock bow. "Your wish is my command, my lady."

Hank was settled in his usual spot. Jim told him to stay, "It's too cold for you today." He grabbed his cane, unfolded it and followed Marty out of the squad.

When they came outside, Jim started walking but after a few steps decided there was no way around it. "Marty, do you mind if I take your arm?" Yesterday's snow was now frozen into an icy uneven surface, making cane travelling a challenge.

"Sure." At first Marty was unsure of how to guide Jim. Come on, Russo, he thought, you've seen Karen do this a million times, if she can do it, well, then so can I.

They began walking. "How come you never do that?"

"What?"

"Ask me or Tom to guide you?"

"You miss walking arm-in-arm with me?"

"Yeah, that's it, Dunbar! No, seriously, why not?"

"I don't like being guided unless I really need to." Jim answered in a tone meant to stop Marty pursuing the subject. Which he didn't, of course.

"Why not?"

Jim didn't mind being asked about how he did things but this went much deeper. He knew why he didn't like it but wasn't comfortable discussing it with anyone let alone Marty! Besides, it was very hard to explain without sounding like a petulant child. "Would you?"

Hell, no! Marty didn't even want to think about it! Me and my big mouth, why did I even ask, he chided himself. I can't say that to the guy, that would be mean, even for me.

"Me neither." Jim knew exactly what was going through Marty's mind.

"Right. Then, what about the dog?"

"Hank is different." Jim wished for Marty to let the subject go but he knew from experience that he would keep it on till his questions were answered. "I'm the one to tell Hank which direction to go, he follows my orders. I'm the one who's in charge and like it or not – "

"I get it." Marty interrupted. Suddenly he had enough of this conversation. They were soon at the sandwich bar, where they bought their sandwiches and headed back to the squad.

Lieutenant Fisk joined the four detectives while they ate their lunch and discussed the case. "Did you ID him?"

"Yes." Karen had her mouth full so Jim continued, "Darren Jones, The parish clerk confirmed that Peter Bonner used to live in the shed and his description of Peter Bonner matches the DOA."

"Creepy guy," Karen shuddered. "Makes my skin crawl."

"Anything else?"

"No, we talked to the DOA's wife. Turns out they never divorced but she hadn't seen him in years," Karen said and added, "She seemed sad that he was dead, though."

"OK. Selway and Russo, what've you got?"

"While the two lovebirds were out buying lunch," Tom grinned as Jim and Marty almost in unison gave him a crossed look, "I spoke to the ME's office. The DOA died of natural courses. At least that's what the ME said, you'll naturally die if you decide to stay outside almost naked in the middle of the winter."

"Was there any alcohol in his system? Or drugs?" Fisk knitted his brows. This was a strange case.

"Yes, but not enough to kill him. No drugs. There is one more thing." Tom waited, a smug expression on his face.

"Come on, Tom, spill it." Marty said impatiently.

"The DOA had a coin in his mouth."

"A coin? How did it get there?" This is getting more and more weird, Lieutenant Fisk thought.

"Ancient burial practice," Jim nodded, "But you're right, how did it get there, and why?"

"I have more," Tom gloated. "There were two similar cases last winter. One in Hell's Kitchen last November and one last February. Guess who had that case?"

"Tom!" Karen pleaded.

"Glen Semple!"

"Oh, no!" Jim sighed exasperated.

"Oh, yes, and you and Karen are going to talk to him." Fisk smiled when Jim and Karen groaned. "Tom and Marty, you get to go to Hell's Kitchen."

* * *

Glen Semple had been assigned to desk duty after Terry Jansen, his last partner, had resigned. He didn't care, after all he was counting the days till his retirement six months from now. 

"Dunbar and Bettancourt! To what do I owe the pleasure? We did great on the case with the gang-shooting, didn't we?" He smiled affably and didn't seem to notice the disgusted look on Karen's face. "How's Terry? Best partner you ever had right?"

Jim had braced himself for this conversation but was still overwhelmed by the guy's total lack of tact. How did he ever become a detective? He took a deep breath. "We're not here about Terry. Do you remember a case you had last winter? A homeless guy frozen to death? Had a coin in his mouth?"

"Nyah… Wait a minute… Yup, a drunk in a snowdrift. Stupid guy, why?"

"You didn't think it was odd that he had a coin in his mouth?"

"Listen. A homeless drunk dies, who cares? And it was freezing cold. No way I'm going to waste time on that. He's better off dead anyway."

Jim shook his head in disbelief. "Well, I'd like to see your casefile, if I may?"

"Sure, it's your funeral. I'll get someone to find it and bring it to you."

"Thanks."

As soon as they got in the car, Karen exploded. "What's wrong with this guy? How can he still be a cop, it's a disgrace."

"I know. If I ever end up like him, promise me, you'll shoot me." Jim didn't even realize what he was saying until he could feel Karen shifting uncomfortably next to him. Karen didn't know how to respond and hesitated. Finally she thought, what the heck. "I promise, but only if-"

Jim laughed, "Bad choice of words, I know, but I promise, if need be, I'll shoot you too."

She chuckled, "Deal!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Karen had just turned the key in the ignition when a knock on Jim's window startled them both. A uniformed officer stood outside the car with a thin folder in his hand.

"Jim, the window." Jim rolled down the window and the officer handed him a folder. "Detective Semple told me to give you this." When Jim didn't move to take it he dropped it in his lap, making him jump. "Sorry, Detective." He turned and left. "Thank you," Jim called after him and closed the window again.

"What's this?" Jim felt the edges of the thin folder, then handed it to Karen. She took it, opened it and began reading. Jim waited impatiently for a moment then demanded, "Karen?"

"Oh, sorry, it's Semple's case file on Raúl Hernández, the homeless guy from last winter. It's the thinnest case file I've ever seen. There's Semple's report from the scene and the ME's report and that's basically it."

"What does it say?"

"The DOA is Raúl Hernández, 34, Hispanic found frozen to death on February 20th. The body was found in the far corner of a park covered in snow."

"What else?" Jim said impatiently, wishing he could read it for himself.

"That's it, don't snap at me, I can't tell you what's not there."

"Sorry. There's gotta be more?"

"No! Like I said it's the lousiest case file I've ever seen and I've seen some sloppy ones in my days."

"Any address?"

"Yes. There is an address in an apartment building. You want to go there and see if anyone there remembers him?"

"Did Semple talk to anyone there?"

"I don't think so, there's nothing in the file to indicate that he did. He probably sat on his ass by his desk and decided it was not worth the trouble going there."

"I think that it might be. Let's go."

* * *

He didn't want to think about his childhood, too many bad memories, but they always came back to him at night before he went to sleep. Some nights he could avoid the memories by thinking about the people he had helped throughout the years. Some nights, like tonight, the memories wouldn't go away. He remembered living with his parents in a trailer in an Indian reservation. He was five or six years old at the time. Not all his memories of the place were bad though. There was an old man who used to take him for a walk and tell him about nature and about the making of the world. He told him God was in the Earth and the sky, in the mountains, the sun and the stars. He told stories about the eagle's flight and how Good and Evil fought against each other and Man stood in between torn between the two.

He spent a lot of time on his own, neglected even by his parents. At night he went to bed on his own even though he was very scared of the dark and of being alone. Sometimes they would hold ceremonies to which his parents brought him. That was even worse than being alone in the trailer. The room would be dark, only lit by a fire, making eerie shadows in the corners. The air was filled with sweet smoke and the humming of male voices. He was frightened but was afraid to tell his Mom and Dad because somehow he knew that this was something important, something he had to do. Maybe they knew he was frightened because a couple of times they let him smoke too, perhaps hoping that that would calm him down. It made him kind of drowsy, not asleep but not awake either. He would have weird dreams and scary images floated in the air. He wanted to cry, wanted his Mom to comfort him but all he could do was lie there and wait for the liberating sleep.

One day Grandma came to visit them. At night when they thought he was asleep, he heard Grandma and his Mom and Dad argue.

"You can't let him live like this. He's just a small child. How can you leave him alone at night? I can tell he's scared of being in there in the dark at night."

"That's not true, he –"

"You have no idea, all you do is sit here and smoke marijuana day and night. What about the boy, is he on drugs too?

"Of course not! We gave him some, a couple -"

"I don't want to hear it. I'm taking the boy with me, we're leaving tomorrow!"

"Hah. And that's supposed to be better? You couldn't even take care of me," he could hear the hurt and scorn in his mother's voice, "and now you're old. And I know how much sherry you drink at night. But that's medicine, right? Just to help you fall asleep? You can take him, he's a weird kid anyway."

That's how he ended up with Grandma and in the Catholic school. She said he needed some "proper schooling and a proper faith". The nuns at the school were very strict, most of them, but he was smart and did well in school. Then of course there was Father O'Brien... No! He would not think about him! If he did he would never fall asleep. Like in "Peter Pan" he just had to think happy thoughts and he could, if not fly then at least sleep.

* * *

The address in the file was of an apartment on seventh floor of an old, red apartment building. The name on the apartment door was E. Garcia. After Karen knocked they waited for a while then the door was opened by a tiny woman in her fifties.

"Si?"

"Detectives Bettancourt and Dunbar from NYPD. Are you Mrs. Garcia?"

"The police? I've never had the police come to my door. I'm an honest, hardworking –"

"No, no, Mrs. Garcia, we're here about Raúl Hernández. I believe he used to live here." While Karen was talking, the woman took in Jim's dark glasses, gave Hank a condescending glance, made a disapproving sound and directed all her attention at Karen.

"Habla Español?

"Si."

She began speaking in Spanish. Every now and again Karen asked a question. At least that's what Jim assumed. He didn't speak Spanish and felt quite left out of the conversation. It seemed as though Karen's questions upset the older woman although it was difficult to assess solely from the voice.

Suddenly he felt the door slamming before he even heard it close and he involuntarily took a step backwards.

"Whoa! What did you say to her?"

Karen shook her head. "Nothing. She doesn't care for the late Mr. Hernández. She has a spare room in her apartment and he rented it two years ago. He told her he was an accountant and worked for a large company."

"So why didn't he have a place of his own?"

"He never really told her, said something about his girl-friend being mad at him. Anyway, he didn't keep his job for long, that is, if he was even employed at the time. She said he slept all day and was out partying every night. On several occasions he brought home girls to his room even though the lease said that visitors were not allowed. She eventually kicked him out when he stopped paying the rent."

"That's when he ended up on the street?"

"Probably. One evening after he was gone, two drug dealers came to her door asking for him. Apparently they wanted him to pay for the cocaine he'd bought. She told them she didn't know where he was, and didn't care either, and then she slammed the door."

* * *

"OK, Selway and Russo, did you get anything in Hell's Kitchen yesterday?"

"Sure, Boss," Tom looked at his note from the previous day and continued, "The DOA was a Isaiah Washington, black, 56 years old. He was a lawyer but couldn't keep his hands off the client accounts. He was convicted and did four years. While he did time he was declared bankrupt and since his wife had divorced him the year before, he had nowhere to go after he was released."

"Alcohol? Or drugs?" Jim leaned back in his chair, wondering what the three could possibly have in common.

"No, not that we know of."

"Karen," Lieutenant Fisk demanded, "what did Semple tell you?"

While Karen told the others what they had learned yesterday, Jim tuned them out and kept wondering what this case was all about.

"Jim, I assume you're not asleep?" That was Marty. "So what's going on in that peculiar mind of yours?"

"Umm, I was just wondering what these three men have in common?"

"They were homeless, in case you've forgotten." There was a snide tone in Marty's voice.

"Yeah, I know, but what else?"

"Not race," Tom chimed in. "A white guy, one Hispanic and one Black."

"Maybe that's it." Karen sounded as if she didn't believe it herself, "they don't have anything in common."

"There's gotta be something." The Lieutenant sounded somewhat desperate.

"You know, Marty, maybe you are right."

"I told you so, Dunbar. Right about what?"

"They were homeless. What does homeless people have in common, apart from the obvious?"

"Shelters. Food lines." Karen turned toward Jim. "What about that creepy guy from the Church? Darren Jones?"

"I'll do a background check on him," Tom offered.

A while later Tom cheered, "I've got it!"

The four detectives went to the Lieutenants office.

"Boss, I think we've got him." Tom couldn't hide the excitement in his voice. "Darren Jones was volunteering in a food line in Hell's Kitchen back in November last year. Then he worked at the shelter Raúl Hernández sometimes stayed at. And of course, we already know that he knew Peter Bonner."

"Well done. But do we have any evidence saying he did it?"

"No, Boss, but I still like him for the murder." Jim was sure Darren Jones was the perp they were after.

"Well, you're not likely to get him to confess."

"Maybe," Marty was thinking out loud, "maybe you could go undercover as homeless, Dunbar."

"No, Marty, I – "

The Lieutenant interrupted Jim, "No, that's not going to work. He already knows you, Jim."

Jim didn't really want to go undercover but at the same time was pleased with the fact that the Lieutenant and Marty were considering him, even though he was blind and despite what happened the last time.

"I'll do it," Tom volunteered.

"Go for it." Marty grinned, "I would still like to see Dunbar in something less fancy than the suits he's usually wearing."

"You know what, Marty? I would still be the best dressed homeless man you ever saw!"


End file.
